Cabin Pressure - Doubts
by MysticPuma
Summary: A sequel to "Much Like Falling" – It's been a month since New York and Martin's having doubts about how Douglas feels…


**I know... It's been forever since I uploaded a fanfiction! I'm sorry! I was doing NaNoWriMo... With a Fire Emblem Fanfiction... It's not even finished, but I reached my goal :3 Anyway, this is the sequel to "Much Like Falling" (so please do read that first!), Enjoy :D xxx**

* * *

**Doubts**

**Monday, 9 am, Fitton.**

Martin sighed, pulling on his 'Icarus Removals' t-shirt and a pair of old jeans (Not that he had any _new_ jeans – hell he didn't even have any _middle-aged_ jeans!) He glanced in the mirror and he couldn't help seeing how thin he was. He could see his ribs under his stretched and sickly pale skin. He grimaced, struggling not to throw up at the sight. He glanced at his arm and gulped. He needed to cover those scars…

Looking around the room he saw an arm-band. _Perfect_. He grabbed it and roughly pulled it over the scars. He looked at the phone with a forlorn look on his face. Douglas had said he'd call at 9 last night. Nothing. Martin had waited, telling himself something had distracted him after Martin had dropped him off (they took turns driving each other to work now), but half nine passed, then ten… then eleven… And it was only when the clock struck 1 am did Martin realise he wasn't going to call. Of course he wasn't… Why would he?

Martin lifted his wrist to see his watch. Time to go. He'd call Douglas on the way…

He looked quickly at the piece of paper he'd written the pick-up and drop-off addresses on, and sighed/ It was a long job today. London… Thankfully it would take about three to four hours. So that was £30-40. That would feed him for a couple of weeks, as long as the van didn't die… He started the engine (well… it took a few tries before it sputtered to life, but it worked, that was the main thing…) The hands-free was hooked up to his phone, and he told it to call Douglas as he pulled away from Parkside Terrace. It felt like the phone rang for an age, but it couldn't be that long… He was only at the end of the road whe the ringing stopped.

"Hello?" came the groggy voice of his first officer and boyfriend.

"Hey."

"Martin? Is something wrong?"

"Does something _have _to be wrong for me to call you?" Martin asked, offended.

"Sorry… I didn't mean it like- how are you?"

"Tired and slightly annoyed…" Martin growled (he didn't _mean_ to growl… It just sort of happened.)

"What? Why?"

"I was up late."

"That doesn't explain it _quite_ as well as you might think Martin…"

"I was waiting for you!" Martin cried, his face twisting in rage, which earned him a scared look from the old lady crossing the road ahead of him. He silently sent her a look of apology.

"Huh?"

"You-!" Martni stopped himself and calmed his voice. "You said you'd call…" he muttered sadly, and he tried to stop the tear from escaping hi eye. He couldn't shake the feeling that Douglas just didn't give a damn…

"Oh… Oh!" Douglas cried. "Oh God! I'm so sorry! My phone was dead…"

"You could've used the house phone…" Martin sniffled.

"It broke… You can try calling it if you like… I'm really sorry, Martin… Honestly."

"I…"

"Martin?"

"Do you love me?" Martin blurted.

"What?"

"Do. You. Love. Me?" he repeated.

"I… of course…"

"Really? Do you?" he spat.

"Martin, what's-"

"You never call!" I always have to call you! You haven't got a reason to love me… so why would you? I have to go.."

"Mar-" end call.

Martin knew he was still about 5 minutes from the pick-up address, but he had to calm down… He wiped his eyes hastily, but more tears came. He had to stop a street away.

The sobs wracked his body. Why would Douglas love him? A skinny, sobbing, suicidal mess? No reason. He must have an ulterior motive… He must do.

Humiliation! Douglas wanted Martin humiliated completely! Or… He wanted to squeeze every last drop of life from him, torture him, make him suffer, and then tell him ending it was selfish! He'd trap Martin on this horrid planet, this god-forsaken rock… this… this hell, just like his father had. That was his plan.

And yet… That day, just over a month ago now… On the roof, Douglas had seemed so sincere. So desperate. So much like he really cared about Martin…

It took a moment for the tears to stop. Martin wiped the tracks away as best he could. He felt drained. When he was done, he had to confront Douglas… He drove around the corner. He would yell if he had to. He would scream and fight to know the truth, and the reason why.

He stopped the van again, and opened the door to trudge over to the house, plastering a fake smile onto his face as he went. He lifted his hand, his shaking fist. He stilled it. He knocked on the door. It opened.

"Hello, my name is Martin Crieff, from Icarus Removals." He did not stutter.

* * *

Douglas stared at his mobile in horror.

"Martin…" he whispered. He left it a few minutes, and called back. No answer. He let his head fall into his hands. "Oh God, Martin…"

* * *

**Monday, 2pm, London.**

"Well, thanks for that mate." A thick cocknet accent, and an absent grin. "See ya." The door closed and Martin let the smile fall from his face. The rain masked his tears, thank God. His breathing was laboured, rough, but he could blame that on the exertion. He climbed into the van. _Don't look at the phone._ He told himself. Too late. Twenty messages, thirty missed calls. Almost all from _him_. Martin could not say, think, bear his name right now. That name held his glass heart, smashed by a hammer with a deep brown eye.

He turned the key. Ignition Noise. Beautiful noise, to drown the hate. Drown the pain, the hurt, the tears. He drove in silence, music would only serve to make the memories more vivid.

* * *

**Monday, 6pm, Fitton.**

A knock at the door. It swung open to reveal Douglas Richardson, uncharacteristically flustered.

"Martin! Thank God!" Douglas cried, pulling the dishevelled Captain roughly into his arms. Martin froze, and did not return the gesture. "Martin?"

"Let go…" Martin muttered dully. He did. Martin moved his head to stare Douglas in the face.

"Come in…" Douglas murmured, stepping aside. Martin nodded and moved past him. "What's wrong?" Douglas asked, closing the door.

"Why are you with me?" it was quick-fire, confident and emotionless. Martin was doing his best not to cry. That would show Douglas he was winning.

"Because you just came to my house?" Douglas drawled, in his usual sarcastic tone.

"You know what I mean!" Martin could feel the hot tears bubbling up, the lump growing rapidly in his throat, which was already constricted. Douglas frowned.

"What's wrong Martin..? Why are you all… stressed?"

"I…" Martin took a deep steadying breath. "Why are you wish me?" he asked again, calmly. But that only made it more threateningly serious. "Really, why? To… to humiliate me? Get my hopes up just to knock them down again?" his voice was raising in volume. "Or do you want me to suffer?"

"Martin…" Douglas tried to interject. But Martin cracked.

"Tell me why!" he bellowed.

"Because, as hard as it may be to believe, I care about you!" Douglas cried angrily, looming over Martin, using his height to stop the ginger from going any further with his silly accusations. Martin's eyes widened, and they filled with tears. Douglas closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the prickling behind his own eyelids as best as he could. "Martin… I love you." He said, closing the distance between him and his boyfriend and wrapping his arms protectively around him as he began to sob.

"B-but… why?"

"What do you mean, why?" Douglas cooed, rubbing soft circles into Martin's back. But Martin pushed away from him, tears streaming down his cheeks and gestured to himself.

"Look at me! I'm too short, too thin… I look like a sickly toothpick, for God's sake!" he cried exasperatedly.

"And that's what I'm here for. To get you better. Martin, I'm here for you. I love you, why is that so hard to believe?" Douglas said in his sincerest tone.

"You always have a reason for everything. You said yourself you always have at least seven ulterior motives! What is it this time? Huh!?"

"Nothing! Honestly, Martin. Mr only reason is _you_!"

"But-"

"Shush." Douglas whispered, stepping closer to Martin again and leaning down to place his lips against Martin's. When he pulled away again he smiled gently. "Come on… Let's go out." He suggested suddenly. "Bella Italia just re-opened." He said, and the smile turned into a smirk as he worked his persuasive Sky God magic.

Martin blinked up at him, the last few tears escaping and evaporating on his burning cheeks. He nodded mutely as Douglas rested his hand on his Captain's cheek, letting his thumb rub away one last tear.

"I do love you, you know." He said.

"I… I love you too." Martin whispered weakly. "I'm sorry…"

"It's fine. I've worked myself into face worse frames of mind, trust me." Douglas said with an encouraging smile and a kiss to his forehead. "You may not see why I love you… But I do. You're smart, funny and very fun to tease, and underneath the hard shell of thin malnourishment, you are actually very attractive. And I'm going to make you seen that, alright?"

Martin blushed a deep red, clashing with his hair as he looked away. Douglas pulled hm back to face him and leaned in to kiss him on the lips again.

"Alright…"

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**So what did you think? I never originally planned for sequels in fairness... but it just kinda worked :) x See you soon!**


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